Don’t Worry. I’m with the band.

February 19, 2011

Eventually your music will help put an end to war and poverty. It will align the planets and bring them into universal harmony. Allowing meaningful contact with all forms of life. From extra terrestrials to common household pets. And, it’s excellent for dancing.

- Rufus, “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure”

Historic first gathering of the Buzz Killingtons

I am now officially a Dad Band veteran. The common term used to be “Middle-Age Garage Band” but I suspect with the whole notion of “middle age” being chronically indeterminate and inelegant there came a need to find a category that was broader, friendlier and less tied to personal mortality. Or maybe I’m way over-thinking that.

Now the Dad Band thing has not gone unnoticed. The New York Times did a piece on it a few years back. It made the back cover of Reader’s Digest

First there was White Man’s Overbite back in my Savannah GA days. A group of good friends who fit the Dad Band profile dead-on. Men of a certain age who were too old to be easily embarrassed and, well, just wanted to play. Now we took the garage in garage band seriously. Our lead guitarist fitted out a room above his garage for us to practice in. Our wives rolled their eyes, my kids were mortified, and we had the time of our lives. As a bass player my skill level has never really moved past what it was when I was 16. Barely adequate. They wouldn’t let me near a microphone. But the adrenaline rush of pounding through the A-D-E root note progression of “Louie Louie”, no matter how epically botched, was exhilarating.

Moving to Birmingham in 2008 put an end to my WMO days. Determined to get back the groove I helped put together a new band, The Flaming Republican War Lovers (Shoot Me I’m Dead). Now this group stretched the Dad Band taxonomy just a bit. The other men were all married and most of them were Dads, but they were on the younger and authentically hipper side. Yet they entered into the spirit of things with the same zeal and musical mediocrity as my Savannah friends.

A conspiracy of interstate moves, inertia and other factors put an end to the Flamers and I went over a year in three-chord exile. It was killing me.

But I’m giddy to tell you I have a new band. Ladies and Gentlemen: The Buzz Killingtons. Our first practice was this past Thursday. Our drummer took the picture above from behind his kit. I’m just out of camera to the left. An architect, a lawyer, a construction manager, a scrap metal broker, and me. Two of us are holdovers from the Flamers. We sounded, well, enthusiastic.

So as close to an expert on the dynamics of the Dad Band as you’ll find, let me clear up a few things.

1. We know we stink. The Dad Band that does not begin with that essential level of self-awareness is doomed from the start. A Dad Band member who says, “We need to take it to the next level” needs to be ruthlessly told there is no next level and the one we’re on is just fine and dandy, thank you very much.
2. Of course it’s a barely camouflaged attempt at recapturing our youth. If youth is wasted on the young, we’re making up for lost time.
3. We gig twice a year. That’s all. This is a common mistake of Dad Bands. A Dad Band can fill a coffee house or a bar at their first gig. Wives, friends and other family members will turn out in droves for the novelty factor. Even the kids will show up in a slow-down-for-a-car-wreck kind of way. But don’t tempt providence. It takes a full 6 months for the novelty factor to kick in again. I can tell you that from experience.
4. What’s best about this thing is, no surprise, the human connection. I’ve seen in my adult life as a Christian and a pastor every conceivable form of “men’s ministry” and “accountability groups”. They are mostly well-intentioned but usually forced, inauthentic and have a notoriously brief shelf-life. Our “practices” are off the chart low-key, gloriously inefficient and formative in ways that may surprise you. Yes, we get around to playing but a lot gets in the way, thankfully. A good measure of what they call in Scotland “havering”. That comfortable chatter among good friends that seems utterly random but really serves as the white noise of friendship, comfortably reassuring and settling. Regular “beer breaks” (Cheap beer please. Our new drummer brought some Belgian imports. Great beer. Not garage. He’ll learn.) And the freedom to talk about Serious Matters. Or not. The gigs are fun. The practices make it.

So I’m a happy and still inveterately lousy bass player. The Buzz Killingtons will have their first gig some time in late May or June. Stay tuned. There will be noise.

As for the name of the band, it was suggested by my 17 year old son Noah.

Good thing too. I was considering calling the band Viagra Triangle.